


Fit For A Prince

by Esperata



Category: The Batman (Cartoon)
Genre: Child Abuse, Crossdressing, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, Non-Binary Edward Nygma, Poisoning, Snow White Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22944289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: Edward's upbringing might not have offered him much but he still has grand ambitions.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 42
Kudos: 82





	1. The Fairest Of Them All

As far as Edward could judge, it was a stereotypical divorce. His parents had argued over who got him and his father had lost, meaning Ed now lived with him. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that decision and had sympathised with the other kids at the court sanctioned care centre. The ones who had been asked by the debating lawyers to choose which parent they preferred. How were you supposed to go about choosing between your parents?

The drunken mother who occasionally forgot to turn the oven on and served raw chicken but who had a wardrobe full of pretty accessories she let you try on. Or the harsh punishment father who nevertheless earned the money that kept him in the after school clubs he cherished. It was a tough decision and he could only imagine the anxiety the other children suffered with their own choices. He was lucky in a way not to be asked.

As it was his mother left a number of her things behind anyway so he viewed it as the best possible outcome, so long as he was careful never to let his father see him playing dress up. Edward had inherited his mother’s colouration which was fortunate in terms of the available make-up she’d left. Even though the lipstick and eye shadow shades were the more unusual ones, her foundations and concealers at least matched him. In fact the discarded hues of eyeshadow and lipstick actually looked better on him since although he had his mother’s pale skin tone, he had his father’s pitch black hair instead of his mother’s fiery red.

The clothes she’d abandoned were also the slimmer outfits she no longer fit since giving birth and Ed was fast growing into them himself. He was quickly finding out that it wasn’t just his father who viewed a boy wearing sequined tops and bangles as weird however.

The other kids at high school had very set ideas on what was acceptable and what was not. Ed just couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the distinctions that seemed to matter so much to them though. Why did boys have to enjoy sports in order to be considered worthy? What made certain clothing the prerogative of girls? Surely it only mattered whether it looked good?

The more he considered these and other questions, the more he began to wonder if he even really qualified as a boy at all. He didn’t seem to fit the profile at all. Yet he didn’t think of himself as a girl either. But what else was there? Nothing at all it seemed. He fit in with no-one and nowhere. It was a riddle he couldn’t solve, the conundrum of his own being.

And puzzles were somethings that he’d always been good at. From cerebral logic puzzles to mechanical construction puzzles, he could unravel them all. Not that anyone cared. The only attention he got for displaying such genius was mocking from his peers or physical reprimands from his father. Although he knew he was better than they realised, he couldn’t help but long for a little recognition of the fact. Just a moment when people looked at him and saw not the freaky nerd but the dazzling brilliance he could demonstrate.

The longing grew in him over the school years, with no amount of prizes or stunning exam results bringing him the confirmation he so desperately desired, until it became his sole focus. Such single minded dedication to an ambition blinded him to all other considerations and in hindsight he would be amazed he could have been so stupid. Yet at the time it had appeared to be the perfect solution. The answer to all his prayers for validation.

He read the flyer carefully, and then checked through the additional sheet of rules and regulations, all to make sure he wouldn’t be excluded on a technicality. But nowhere in the print did it specify entries had to girls.

So he put his name down for the local beauty pageant.

Or _almost_ his name. He didn’t want to lie, and be disqualified that way, but he was smart enough to realise putting ‘Edward’ might draw some unwelcome investigation. So he put ‘Eddie’ and hoped they’d mistake it for the more feminine ‘Edie’.

His gamble paid off and he soon received his entry details. It wasn’t a huge state event or anything, just a day at a local theatre with a series of challenges, but the prize money would be a welcome boost to his 'getting away' fund. Reading through the instructions he was very relieved that such competitions had moved on from the stereotypical ‘bathing beauty’ round. He had every faith in his legs and upper physique to pass muster, but wasn’t sure he could hide all his attributes in such attire. Luckily the competition only called for two costumes; teen party wear, and the expected ballgown. He’d also have to prepare a statement focusing on his dreams and practise a talent show entry.

He had no trouble finding clothes to show him off to best advantage, and had long since practised various styles on his long hair to know what looked good. He also had no hesitation about selecting a rubik cube for his talent demonstration. He’d never failed to solve it in under ten seconds. The only problem he’d have would be filling the rest of his time with patter for the audience.

Working out what to write for his dream was more problematic. Saying he wanted validation seemed too blunt at such a show even though it was the truth. Admitting his ambition to be a private detective also didn’t feel like the right note to strike. Eventually he settled on encouraging inclusivity. It worked on multiple levels. From a personal point of view it was something he believed needed to happen for people like himself, who were outside the normal parameters accepted by society. It was also a position he’d heard lauded in the press when various celebrities espoused it. And, perhaps more importantly, if it won him any acclaim then it would be harder later for those people to try and exclude him without exposing themselves to claims of hypocrisy.

The day of the competition brought him none of the expected nerves. In fact he felt liberated in a way he’d never experienced before. He was focused and confident. His initial choice of outfit was lauded by the judges for its retro appeal. His deliberately striking make-up was less well received garnering mixed responses but his long black hair wrapped up in a Chinese style drew many favourable comments.

This lent weight to his speech about wanting to see a world unified with small minded bigots weeded out. He had thought there might be members of the audience squirming at some of his pointed remarks about racists, homophobes or sexists but the blinkered fools apparently didn’t link his observations with their behaviour. Inwardly he fumed at their stupidity but he would concede that fight for another day since the positive reaction his speech won enhanced his cause.

He more enjoyed the talent section where he could revel in their credulity. It hadn’t occurred to him before but the judges seemed even more impressed with the speed at which he solved it because they believed him to be a girl. Did they really think femininity precluded high intelligence? He was put in mind of magician shows where the magician himself could get away with seemingly incredible feats merely by distracting a susceptible audience with a pretty girl. Except in this scenario Ed himself was both distraction and magician.

The final part of the contest brought him the most nerves of the day. Procuring a ballgown wasn’t something he could easily do and the choices in his mother’s abandoned clothes were limited. Actually there had only been one option and he wasn’t sure how it would be received. It was his mother’s wedding dress.

On the positive side, it wasn’t obviously a wedding dress, being a vibrant green colour. However he knew all the other girls would be wearing hooped skirts and puffed sleeves. His choice was distinctly different; long and sleek with extra long sleeves that tapered off into peaks hooked round his middle fingers. Also, he had no expensive jewellery to enhance it with. He’d hesitated over wearing cheaper alternatives before opting for simplicity and hoping for the best.

The reaction was initially uncertain as he walked out with the others, all casting him curious looks. He kept his own head held high and tried to exude confidence, reminding himself that it was far better to stand out from the crowd in situations like these. The eyes of the audience on him began to weaken him though as the judges conversed briskly. Memories of jeering crowds from school swam up and it was all too easy to imagine these crowds also turning mocking.

Then the head judge stepped forward with a bright smile and shining crown to place upon his head. Edward felt an unbelievable upwelling of emotion at the applause from the audience and soaked in the atmosphere as deeply as he could, trying to commit the experience to memory. Of people looking at him, appreciating him, acknowledging him as worthy. To be honest it left him slightly dazed.

As the event wound down and all the girls changed back into normal attire, several people stopped by his cubicle to congratulate him again. One judge even suggested he try competitions on a larger stage. All in all it was as much as he could do to sort himself out to make it home before his father could notice he was unusually late. Stepping back inside his small apartment home after such a day felt jarring and uncomfortable. Especially experiencing the juxtaposition of disregard his father showed him compared to the people at the beauty pageant.

In hindsight, he wondered that he’d never once stopped to consider the aftermath. Not the sudden comedown from centre stage to overlooked corner. No. The natural fact that Beauty Pageants would be reported in the press. And the fact his father was not one to pass by an article picturing pretty young girls.

It was only the very next day that the whole situation came to an ugly conclusion as his father no sooner stepped in the door before landing a hard punch into his child’s cheek. Ed looked up in bewilderment only to have the newspaper held before his eyes featuring a picture of him – attired in his mother’s wedding dress. His eyes widened in fear and he looked up from the page to his father, unusually quiet and grim.

“I’ll kill you. You little freak. I’ll kill you.”

Ed didn’t wait. He darted under his father’s next swinging punch and ran out. Out the door, down the street and away. Away as far as he could possibly get.


	2. Someday My Prince Will Come

The party was dull but not so dull as the guests. At least those of them Oswald had currently chatted up. Not one of them seemed to have a sense of humour and the latest heiress he’d approached had given him a look like he was one of the hired help trying to accost her.

He frowned to himself as she scurried away, at a speed that was less than polite. Perhaps he had something in his teeth? It wouldn’t be the first time given his irregular incisors, a family inheritance he hadn’t wanted as opposed to the more monetary one he’d have liked. He hadn’t been about to pass up the free food however. Not for the sake of upholding fatuous standards of society decency. He would check though in case it was hindering his efforts.

Stomping into the hallway he stopped in front of the mirror to examine his grin, turning his head each way to check for stray spinach. He saw only a perfect devilish smile flashing back at him. He stayed a little longer to admire himself. There was no doubt about it – he was a handsome one. It should therefore be child’s play to sweep one of these rich idiots off their feet. So what was causing him trouble?

His confident air faltered slightly as he studied himself for perceived flaws. Was his suit out of style? It was true he’d been out of the country a long time but equally there was no denying he fetched a fine figure. And the colour of his waistcoat echoed his flaming hair.

Perhaps _that_ was it he realized. A stupid superstition about red-heads being bad luck or some such rot. The rich and vacuous were often prey to such unsubstantiated beliefs. He sighed at the realization that he still needed to woo one of these idiots, despite their stupidity, if he was going to have any chance of re-establishing the family name to its place of prominence. No-one respected you if you didn’t have wealth to back you up and right now the easiest source for a bachelor like him was one of these fat hens ready for plucking.

Stepping back into the main hall, he surveyed his options again. Maybe the women were too nervy he rationalized. Too easily flustered by the attention of a princely catch like him. Well, if that were the case, the solution was obviously to try the men. He snatched up a few more hor d’oeuvres as he sauntered back into the room looking for his next target. If he was going to go fishing then he might as well go for the biggest catch; Bruce Wayne.

He spotted the man over by the punch bowl, with what looked like an old fashioned chaperon at his elbow. The elderly escort scowled at him as he approached, reinforcing his conclusion that he was there to protect the billionaire playboy from unscrupulous gold diggers. Still Oswald fixed his affable smile firmly in place and strode straight up with an air of utter confidence in his welcome.

“Bruce! Wonderful party!”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it Mister…?”

“Cobblepot.” He gripped his hand firmly as they shook. “Oswald Cobblepot. But you can call me Ozzie.”

“Cobblepot?” The escort interrupted brusquely. “I know that name. My grandfather used to butler for the Cobblepots back in England.”

Oswald couldn’t have hoped for a better segue and he puffed up self-importantly. One invaluable selling point, besides himself, was the distinction of having a true hereditary lineage most Americans would give their right arm for. Or at least hopefully their left ring finger.

“Yes. It’s a very old and respected family. Related to the royal family you know.” He threw in a wink for good measure, getting a rather blankly bemused look from the Wayne heir. Another empty headed fool then, Oswald reflected.

A snort drew his attention firmly back onto the attendant.

“ _Distantly_ related,” he was corrected. “By marriage only. And I’d hardly call the Cobblepots respected. They were arrogant snobs, the lot of them, who squandered their fortune long since.” He concluded this summary with a piercing stare indicating precisely what he thought of Oswald’s attempts to inveigle himself with Bruce.

Rather than arguing with what he was beginning to doubt was hired help – at least not hired help of the traditional kind – he pointedly turned his gaze back to the party’s host.

“Are you going to allow this… individual, to talk to your guest that way Bruce?”

Even as he was speaking, the protective companion had deliberately handed over a piece of paper which Bruce quickly looked over before casting his innocuous face up with a polite smile.

“It appears your name isn’t on the guest list Mister Cobblepot so technically you’re not my guest. If anything, we might even call you a trespasser.”

Although the face and tone remained calm and pleasant, Oswald had enough experience to recognize when someone wasn’t going to budge on an issue. The boy might look like a happy go lucky pushover but there was clearly something willfully stubborn under the surface.

“I must have come to the wrong house,” Oswald suggested airily. “So many invites, you know how it is.”

“Of course.”

Oswald turned to leave but couldn’t quite shake his irritation at being so conclusively snubbed and threw a glance back over his shoulder as he called, “Best teach the help some manners though, Brucie. That’s what separates the Waynes from the Cobblepots.”

Having the last word helped sooth his pride as he walked out with head held high but it couldn’t prevent his frustration that his ambition for the evening had been thwarted. Despite what he’d said, there weren’t a wealth of parties he could attend and, even if there were, now he’d been shown the door at the most high market of them all it was unlikely he could pass unnoticed at any others. His own memorable good looks were counting against him as no-one could forget such a fine featured face.

Finally reaching the end of the ridiculously long driveway he snapped his phone open to call his ride home.

“Yes, its me. Come pick me up… I got bored and left early. The help was rude and the guests were boring. I’m not sure its even worth marrying any of them for the money if I actually have to endure their company for more than a few hours for it ... Wait ... What was that? ... What do you mean someone hacked into my computer system?!”

He switched the phone to his other ear and listened intently.

“Are you sure they didn’t get into my offshore account? ... So no money’s gone? ... But they could access all my plans and personal files? ... What kind of question is that to ask!?! Yes, change all the security settings! And then come get me! I feel like a prize turkey waiting out here!”

He hung up abruptly and grumbled briefly to himself. What kind of person broke into your secure network but didn’t take what money was there? The answer came to him suddenly: it must be a one of the city’s detectives. He’d had to leave China in a hurry when their police had finally tracked him. They must have notified other agencies to be alert and now Gotham’s finest were doing some digging of their own. Well, Oswald Cobblepot would soon teach them what happened to curious birds who stuck their beaks where they weren’t wanted. He was more than a match for any of these desk jockeys.

His ride pulled up and he clambered in quickly.

“Home. I want to assess the damage myself. Then we’ll need to prepare for a visit to the precinct to remind the self-righteous protectors of Gotham that they’re not above the law either. And two can certainly play at that game if they want to play.”


	3. Heigh-Ho

Working the traveling fairs wasn’t the life he’d wanted but it had got him here. Gotham City. A city of opportunity but a tough place to catch a break. To make it here you needed to be able to set yourself apart. Have something no-one else had. Be willing to take risks and be ready to seize rewards. Edward had dreamt of coming here since he was a boy.

A little scavenging for old computer parts, and linking himself into the police internet line, gave him the start he needed. Proof if any were needed that the extra time spent after school in computer clubs was worth it. But he was smart enough not to get too cocky. For now he just needed to establish himself and learn how everything ticked. So he browsed through the applicant files short listed for a basic forensic position and made the few alterations that would garner him an interview.

After that he only needed to borrow a smart suit and brush up the specific knowledge required with a trip to the local library. While the later were happy to lend him his required reading, he knew the shops wouldn’t be so understanding. Which was why he’d also filched a strong magnet to deactivate the security.

The interview was a simple test of his memory with questions relating to procedures, and checking he understood the chain of command in the precinct, so he was confident he’d passed. He dutifully waited around while they concluded the other interviews and took the chance to study the workings of the place first hand.

There was an overtly masculine edge to the atmosphere which put him on edge and he was glad he’d be working downstairs out of the way of most of the cops. He knew he’d never fit in with these stereotypical misogynistic men, being as he didn’t strictly consider himself male, nor heterosexual. As he watched though he picked out those who were set apart from the general populace of cops and which he might need to watch out for.

Or would need to watch out for he discovered as Captain Rojas came to congratulate him on his appointment. Edward smiled politely as the man began talking about the standards he held his team to and couldn’t quite stop the word ‘gluttony’ from pinging into his head, although he couldn’t understand why at first. He knew it wasn’t the man’s weight because Ed had no problem distinguishing the person from the body. Then he realised what it was. Rojas consistently spoke of his team’s achievements in terms of ‘I’, hording all the glory to his own leadership.

As Ed cast his eyes to the other members of the interview panel he could see them grimacing rather than smiling. Over the next few weeks Ed came to understand their reactions even better. Detective Bennett was ambitious, often striking out on his own to conclude a case, and clearly wanted that recognition for himself. If anything he was as greedy for it as their captain.

Detective Yin however was far more by-the-book but that only increased her anger at her loose cannon partner. She also had to contend with being a woman in a predominantly man’s world and Ed felt a sympathy with her for that. She took that discrimination though and used it to fuel her wrath when chasing criminals.

It was entertaining in a way for Edward to watch the detectives interacting when Captain Rojas stopped by each morning to hand out assignments or check progress. Asides from the team of Yin and Bennett, there was a secondary team in the precinct of Gordon and Bullock. Every day, Ed timed his use of the photocopier to eavesdrop on the session and watched as every day, Gordon and Bullock got passed over for the prime cases.

Their reactions to this slight couldn’t have been more different though. Detective Gordon practically seethed with resentment, glaring at the others with naked envy in his eyes. Bullock meanwhile couldn’t have cared less. He’d been in the job longer of course and seemed intent on doing the bare minimum to get through it and earn his pension. He was the human equivalent of a sloth, in more ways than one as Ed would swear he’d seen things living on his jacket sleeve.

And then there was Detective Cash Takinson. Technically he didn’t work at the GCPD but was occasionally lent to the department to help on a case. When he stepped inside, suddenly all the other detectives were united. The man had pride leaking out of his pores and absolutely zero humility. Personally, Ed found him the most entertaining of them all.

So overall he enjoyed his new position as a forensics analyst, studying police methodology and learning about the operations, both criminal and otherwise, that kept the city running. There was however a proverbial fly in his ointment. His own boss down in the labs: Doctor Guerra. The man would not keep his hands to himself and Ed was quickly learning to keep a healthy distance between them at all times. It didn’t stop the looks the man gave him however. Eyes filled with clear lust that made Ed deeply uncomfortable. Hence why, although he enjoyed his work in the labs, he took every opportunity to escape for a respite. Which was how he discovered no-one actually questioned you when you borrowed a vacant PC.

Whether this was due to a lack of time to worry about things not immediately relevant to their work, or an actual disinterest in anything going on around them, Ed neither knew nor cared. It gave him access to hundreds of fascinating files and he regularly began noting items or people of interest. From there it wasn’t much of a leap to hacking into exterior systems for details. The security most organisations used was the same and once he’d figured out one, he immediately had access to dozens.

Banks were an obvious target but didn’t really hold his interest except in allowing him to seek retribution on his former tormentors. Tech companies posed more of a challenge and he enjoyed spending time breaking their codes to see what they were developing. Only one company gave him trouble in that regard: Wayne Tech. He would regularly attempt to break in only to find some new defensive protocol had been installed.

While pondering the ways he might get around that, he passed the time researching the more notable individuals in the city. Those who made no apologies for themselves and simply stole the limelight. The police had copious half formed dossiers on the Batman which was interesting but didn’t really appeal. Ed was more interested in the vigilante’s latest opponent. The criminal dubbed Penguin.

From everything he could uncover, the man didn’t fit any stereotypical profile. He had pedigree and ancestry that should have allowed him free entry to high society but not the funds to back him up, only proving the elite were more interested in money than class. His physical profile too didn’t suggest an active fighter yet all the evidence showed he had been able to hold his own against the Batman, prompting Ed to conclude he had learned how to subvert expectations to his advantage. Most impressive however was his utilisation of birds in his crimes because, as long as the court couldn’t prove he was responsible for the birds, then he couldn’t be arrested for their crimes.

Ed couldn’t help himself and risked hacking into the Penguin’s system to see if he could find out more but he’d no sooner gained access than he heard Doctor Guerra asking for him. Ducking his head, he glanced over and was relieved to see they hadn’t spotted him yet. Awkwardly logging out of the PC he slid out of the chair and hurried away towards the labs. While the doctor was searching up here he could get back and grab his stuff for his break.

The lockers for the scientists were in a room off the corridor leading to the loading bay, since they regularly received deliveries from crime scenes and it made sense to have everything on the one level. Ed didn’t keep much at work but he did pick up some fruit every day on his way in to snack on. One visit to the GCPD kitchen had convinced him it wasn’t worth it for a herbal tea so he made do. He pocketed the apple and briskly made his way to the loading bay and up the ramp to the alley where vehicles would sneak in to offload their often discomforting cargo. A fire escape staircase halfway along made a secure enough seat for him to take a breather.

His guard raised instinctively though when he saw he wasn’t alone out here today. Holding the apple suspended between pocket and mouth, he peered suspiciously at the figure. The man looked like… but Ed scarcely trusted his conclusion. It wasn’t possible. Not here. Not after the lengths he’d put into hiding. Then the man stepped close enough that Ed couldn’t deny his identity.

“How did you find me?” The words were out before he could stop them and he winced at the familiar scoff it drew.

“Really? After all your whining, Gotham was the first place I’d look. It was sheer luck though that I came to diligently report my son missing only to find you.”

His smile was mocking and Ed wondered he hadn’t considered this might be his father’s first stop. However, after the initial few anxious months running, he’d assumed his father wasn’t coming after him. It seems that had been a mistake but he forced himself to shrug nonchalantly.

“Well. I’m not going back so you needn’t have bothered.”

That produced a lunge and a growl making Ed flinch despite himself.

“I don’t want you back boy!” he spat. “I couldn’t care less about seeing you again but after you drained every cent from my account I damn well want my money back!”

Ed smiled slightly, pleased at the reaction even as he was wary of the anger.

“I don’t have it,” he answered honestly, lifting the apple to take a bite in an attempt to seem casual.

“Well where is it you freak?”

The name shouldn’t have still hurt but it caused Ed to falter nonetheless. He fixed his cold expression on the man who’d made his life a misery and knew he wouldn’t let him do that ever again. He wouldn’t let _anyone_ do that to him again.

“I donated it to a charity helping kids kicked out of home for being queer. It seemed appropriate.”

He took a large bite into the apple, hoping the crunch would symbolically seal his statement. To his minor alarm though, his father grinned.

“Yeah. Well enjoy that victory while you can. I’d say you have maybe a few minutes.” At Edward’s obviously confused look, his father gestured to the fruit in his hand. “Did say I’d kill you boy.”

The shock of realisation automatically made Ed swallow and he quickly gagged to prevent any of the poisoned apple going down his throat. He could hear his father’s dissipating laughter as he left him frantically trying to clear his throat. Panicking as his mind raced with possible outcomes of toxins entering his bloodstream, his anxiety only grew worse as he felt a piece was still lodged in his throat.

He was already experiencing dizziness, elevated pulse and short pants of breath as he stumbled his way back towards the loading bay, but in truth he didn’t know if that was a panic attack or the poison already kicking in. Almost falling around the corner, he saw a figure standing looking down towards the entrance and staggered over before his brain even registered who it was.

Drawing to a swaying halt he managed one hitched sentence before passing out; “Help me. Please.”


	4. I'm Wishing

Oswald stared at his impromptu kidnap victim and wondered how he could turn this situation to his advantage. He had no idea who had drugged this guy, or why, but it was a case of finders keepers now. It had certainly made his job of retaliating against the GCPD easier. All he had to do was wait for the man to wake up, figure out what his deal was, and ransom him back. That should teach the coppers not to peek at his affairs uninvited.

First he had to make sure he didn’t die on him though. He was happy to steal the credit for someone else’s assault but he in no way wanted to be connected with a murder attempt. At least, not of someone he didn’t even know. Not that he was sure precisely _why_ the man had passed out on him. Asides from a few half chewed pieces of apple in his mouth there was no sign of anything physically wrong. Which was why Oswald had concluded the man had been drugged.

The man had barely been conscious as Oswald manhandled him into his parked car and he’d cursed leaving the twins behind in favour of subterfuge. Luckily there was a drugstore on the corner by the GCPD, although it was more likely canny thinking on the part of the proprietor, and Penguin ran in to pick up some activated charcoal before hurrying back to his latest charge. Getting any into the guy proved more of a challenge as he could barely keep his eyes open, and most of it probably went down his shirt, but eventually he was satisfied he’d done all he could.

It was only then that he’d brought the man back home and set up a vigil over him, monitoring his signs and waiting for his body’s system to finish flushing any toxins out. While he waited, he couldn’t help but notice the attractive features. Even though he was proud of his own thick fiery hair, there was no denying the silky black strands suited the sleek elegance of the guy’s form. He wasn’t sure if the paleness to his skin was natural or a result of whatever caused this fainting fit but it helped set off the contrast with his lips that seemed to bloom red as an apple.

He was just contemplating whether that blush was caused by lipstick when the eyes finally fluttered open again and a low groan announced his return to consciousness.

“Ah. Finally you’re awake.”

There was no answer immediately as he clearly fought to focus his gaze and assess his situation. Then he frowned and wet his lips.

“My mouth tastes… like coal dust?”

“I gave you a charcoal extract to counteract whatever it was you’d been given. You’re welcome by the way.”

He was a little miffed his act of charity was being ignored as his guest – or victim he should say – struggled upright.

“Where’s my shirt?”

“I threw it away.” As this drew an aggrieved look he added, “It was hideous even before it got covered in charcoal juice.”

Finally, his patient seemed to register his saviour and his look softened.

“Thank you. For helping me.”

“You’re not out of the woods yet Mister Nygma. I have plans for you.”

“How do you know my name?”

Oswald gestured to the bedside table where a GCDP badge rested and was pleased to see the aggravated look on Edward’s face as he realised the obvious answer.

“What ‘plan’ Mister Penguin?” he countered instead.

The fact he knew who he was shouldn’t have surprised Oswald but it did. He had thought his reputation at present wouldn’t have extended past the detectives investigating him and he had to wonder why they’d have included the forensics department. He tried not to let that concern show though.

“Well, since a member of the GCPD has so propitiously fallen into my hands, I’m going to use you to teach them not to snoop into my private database.”

“Wait, you’ve kidnapped me in retaliation for the hack into your system?”

Something in his tone raised Oswald’s suspicions and he narrowed his eyes at him.

“Yes? Did you have something to say about that?”

An inelegant amused snort did nothing to sooth his mounting ire.

“Only that your plan won’t work since no-one else in the police department knows about it.”

It only took a second for the words ‘ _no-one else_ ’ to stall in his mind.

“Are you telling me _you_ hacked my security system?!”

It finally dawned on the man that perhaps he shouldn’t have clued Penguin into that and he looked away as he shrugged awkwardly.

Oswald curbed his instinct to shout about the disregard for privacy as the changed facts settled into his brain. This wasn’t a bargaining chip he had at his mercy. It was someone willing to flaunt the rules and saw nothing wrong with a little virtual breaking and entering. In other words; an asset. And that required a different approach. He needed to backtrack and convince him he meant no harm.

Relaxing his posture he tried out his most charming smile.

“My dear boy-”

“Not _boy_ ,” Edward snapped back defensively, biting his lip almost immediately afterwards.

The admonishment gave Penguin pause and he quickly reassessed.

“Girl then?” he offered.

This only seemed to make his guest more uncomfortable and he twisted uneasily.

“No,” he answered slowly. “I’m not… I mean I don’t… feel… exactly either?”

Oswald paused to consider that before offering, “A little bit both and a little bit neither?”

“Yes.” Edward nodded almost gratefully at the summary.

“Non-binary then,” Oswald concluded. “Fine. Which pronouns do you prefer?”

“I don’t… what?”

He reminded himself that they had only recently recovered consciousness and were possibly still feeling groggy. Still he couldn’t restrain an eye roll.

“Your pronouns,” he insisted. “Do you prefer they/them?”

“No? I mean, no-one’s ever used those for me. To be honest no-one’s ever asked.”

Once again Oswald found himself backtracking as he studied his guest again.

“Have you ever even told anyone else you’re non-binary?”

A shake of the head answered him before Edward found his voice again.

“I didn’t even know there was a term for it,” he admitted.

The reply temporarily flummoxed Oswald. He forgot sometimes how isolated some people were with these concepts. Although there were several aspects of his upbringing he’d have changed if he could, being educated about genders and sexualities had been one gift that had let him accept that side of himself early on. Travelling had only reinforced his easy recognition of the breadth of spectrums people would find themselves on. Edward it seemed had had no such luck.

If there was one thing that made Oswald truly angry it was the ridiculous prejudices that people held over what amounted to mere variations in the population. It was as unbelievable as discriminating against someone for being short, or having red hair, or speaking with a different accent. And he knew it pretty much always started with the parents.

“I’d like a few minutes alone with whoever raised you,” he declared angrily. “I’d teach them to recognise diversity and encourage its acceptance.”

Another huffed laugh caught his attention and he noted a wry expression on Edward’s face.

“I’d love to set you on my father. He’s the one who poisoned me.”

“What?!”

If he’d hoped his exclamation would draw an explanation he was disappointed.

“Why would he do that?”

Edward shrugged again.

“He’d have a couple of reasons. Either because I embarrassed him by winning a beauty contest when I was younger or, perhaps more likely,” -he smirked- “because I hacked his bank account and transferred all the money out to a queer charity.”

A slow grin grew on Oswald’s face and he settled more comfortably in his seat to face Edward.

“How wonderfully devious,” he praised before pausing thoughtfully. “So its not just my account you peeked in?”

“No.” It was almost eager now how quickly Ed rushed to elucidate. “That was just because I was curious about you. But there’s probably no account I couldn’t crack. With time.”

“Curious about me huh?” Oswald practically purred. Then he picked up his prior thread. “So you could hack into anyone’s bank account and transfer their money without even breaking in anywhere?”

“I could,” Ed agreed cautiously before clarifying, “but its better to sneak in and move small amounts from lots of accounts so it doesn’t raise any flags anywhere. You wouldn’t get a big pay out but enough to live comfortably.”

“You don’t sound very disapproving of the notion. I thought you were supposed to be working _for_ the police?”

“I’ll let you into a secret.” Ed leant closer despite them being the only two people in the room. “I forged my way into that job too.”

Oswald couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing.

“Oh that’s priceless! Of all the people to have fall into my lap, how did I get so lucky to find a hacker who doesn’t give two hoot about legality?”

“I haven’t said I’ll help you yet.” Ed arched an eyebrow pointedly although he still had a smile on his lips. “I want something from you in return.”

“Fair enough. What can I do in exchange for your services?”

A determined stare fixed itself on him.

“Help me take care of my father. Once and for all. Then I’ll set up as many discrete transfers as you like to an untraceable dummy account.”

“Deal.”

Oswald extended his hand to shake on it and felt a thrill as it was gripped immediately.

“First we’ll have to get you something decent to wear. You can’t go out in only pants.”

Edward considered that a minute before smiling as he declared, “Something green.”


	5. One Song

The outfit was not what Oswald would have chosen to wear but he couldn’t deny it worked on Edward. Combined with the striking make-up he’d borrowed, it was a look that once seen wouldn’t be forgotten. They were stood up on the roof of the GCPD and, with the wind whipping through his dark hair, Ed looked every inch a figure of fantasy.

For his own part Oswald had hopped onto the balustrade, partly to savour the view over the city but also to give himself some height for their exchange. When he turned back to his companion again it was to find himself the subject of scrutiny and he arched an eyebrow in silent enquiry.

Ed promptly turned his gaze back to the stairwell door even as he gave a somewhat ambiguous explanation.

“You have surprisingly good balance.”

“This is nothing.” Oswald grinned devilishly. “You should see me on a dance floor.”

The dark eyed stare switched back to him with an intense flash of interest before a sound distracted them both. Someone was about to join them.

Ed slunk quickly to the side of the doorway while Oswald composed himself directly across from it, both hands resting innocuously upon his umbrella handle. As the door swung open, momentarily hiding Edward from his view, he offered the newcomer a welcoming smile.

“Mr Nashton! So good of you to come. You have my condolences.”

“Mister… Cobblepot, was it?” He glared suspiciously over, his eyes then darting round the unusual meeting point. “Is it normal police procedure to offer compensation in such out of the way locations?”

“If we’re being honest,” -Oswald lent forward conspiratorially- “its not strictly normal to pay out for a suspected suicide. We have to keep this hush hush. You understand.”

The reassurance was apparently enough and he stepped towards Oswald without further comment. As soon as he was halfway over though, Edward slammed the door shut and promptly latched it, cutting off his retreat. The sound caused him to spin, tensing like a wild animal for an attack before recognising his antagonist.

“You!” he hissed. “You’re supposed to be dead! Not prancing about like a…” he hesitated as he finally took in the new look. “Freaking pansy!”

The words flowed past Edward without causing even a ripple in his composure and he lent casually against the doorframe.

“You always were so obsessed with appearances. You never did learn not to judge a book by its cover.”

“You trying to tell me this,” -he gestured at the costume that was currently emphasising Ed’s delicate body structure- “isn’t sending a deliberate message?”

“The only thing this is doing, is acting as a distraction from what _should_ be concerning you.”

Automatically his father swung back around to face Cobblepot, who had remained poised watching the interaction.

“Oh, Eddie doesn’t mean me,” he informed him before looking past the man. “He really is short sighted isn’t he?” His gaze switched back to their victim. “I didn’t think you’d actually come. I mean, weren’t you even a little suspicious of how the police would have got your contact details given how far Edward went to sever all connections to you?”

“He’s always been especially gullible where get-rich-quick schemes were involved,” Edward suggested. A locked jaw was the only response they received and so Ed continued. “A weight lifted, a truth told. Forgiveness sought, else the scaffold’s hold.”

His father then turned his suspicious gaze back to him.

“Is that another of your stupid riddles? No-one cares about your dumb word play!”

“You should,” Oswald interjected with a frown. “You’re hardly in a position to mock anybody.”

The venomous glare flickered between the two of them now.

“Fine. I give up. What’s the answer.”

“A confession,” Ed told him. “Specifically, one from you admitting to the attempted murder of your child.”

“You can’t prove that.” He crossed his arms. “And you and your boyfriend don’t scare me.”

“We should,” Oswald snapped finally moving, though only to bring his umbrella handle into the man’s line of sight. “One press of this button and my associates will alert your local authorities to the stash of child pornography in your home.”

“What! That’s a lie! There ain’t no such thing!”

Edward smiled smugly as he sauntered round to recline on the brickwork besides Oswald.

“Oh I think they’ll find plenty on your PC if they care to look. You never did appreciate the value of a good security system. Not that it would have done you much good.”

“You can’t do this to me. No-one will believe it. I’ll just tell them you planted it.”

“After my death?” Edward arched a supercilious eyebrow. “There’s coronary reports detailing the unfortunate death of Edward Nashton. A sad suicide. And won’t that take on an interesting slant after the police turn up that material of yours.”

For an instant Nashton seemed caught, eyes flickering uncertainly as he sought a way out. Then he stilled, his gaze latching on Edward.

“If you want me to take the fall for killing you, then I’m damn well going to have the pleasure of doing it first!”

With a roar he launched himself forward. Ed froze, all his old fears of the man temporarily paralysing his brain from reacting. Then he felt a firm shove as Oswald pushed him aside. Stumbling he finally switched back into gear and spun just in time to see his father collide with Oswald, knocking them both off the roof.

“No! Oswald!”

Rushing to the edge he frantically peered over. Down on the ground he could see the shape of what was obviously his father’s figure, sprawled unnaturally wide over the sidewalk and already drawing considerable attention, but he couldn’t see Oswald.

“Looking for someone?”

The voice caused Ed’s breath to hitch and he looked up to see Penguin floating serenely several meters away, suspended by his umbrella – which Ed now saw was functioning as a helicopter. As he angled himself back towards the roof, Ed struggled to contain his emotions. He’d come so close to losing the man who he’d only found so very recently. The only friend he’d ever made and the first person to unquestioningly accept Ed exactly as he was. Not only that but who encouraged him to pursue his dreams and happily helped.

It was therefore an instinctive, unthinking reaction to grab him as soon as he was in range and yank him into a hard kiss. He broke it seconds later when he realised what he was doing but was relieved to see Oswald didn’t look upset. If anything he looked smug.

“That was for saving me,” Ed offered somewhat distractedly, hands smoothing out the creases they’d made.

“Oh? Will I have to earn repeat performances in a similar way?”

“That depends.”

“On what may I ask?” Oswald prompted with a hint of irritation as Ed remained silent too long.

“My father called you my boyfriend,” he pointed out slowly. “If that were the case, then I think such activities might be expected, don’t you?”

Despite his calm tone, he couldn’t hide the anxiety in his eyes. That more than anything softened Oswald’s response.

“I’m happy with that. Partners in life and crime. Sounds nice doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Ed agreed, pairing his fingers to link with Oswald’s before leaning in for a gentler kiss.

“You’ll have to have a proper criminal name though,” Penguin suddenly cautioned. “How about something like the Hacker?”

Edward’s nose wrinkled in distaste.

“Sounds like a cat with a hairball.” He paused thoughtfully. Then a smile lit his face. “What about the Riddler?”

Now it was Oswald’s turn to wrinkle his nose but before he could respond the sound of several pairs of heavy boots trampling up the stairwell interrupted them.

“Oops. Time to go.” He wrapped an arm tightly around Ed’s thin waist and pulled him close, grinning when he felt his arms latch about him. Hoisting his umbrella again he started the motor and they were promptly pulled into the air, just as the police started pounding on the door in an attempt to break the lock.

Edward’s happy laughter brought a warm flush to Penguin’s face and he cast a quick look to his new beau. Maybe it wasn’t the wealthy beneficiary he’d expected but he had a feeling this prize was going to turn out to be worth so much more. And be a lot more fun into the bargain.

Truly a partner fit for a prince.


End file.
